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Forever is never mine
nor yours
Not even ours

For long is much more probable
Although ends are inevitable
Yet the chase is impeccable

So, shall we try?
Today, early on a
Saturday morning, I'm
trying a little trick I
learned from Bukowski.
I put on some classical
music and I am trying
to write.
Beethoven's 5th in C minor.

I sit in my favorite chair and
watch my black cat lie on the
back of the loveseat and
watch the snowfall.
She looks triumphant,
but it could just be the music.
The philodendrons that hang
around the house and the
bamboo plants seem happier, too.
There's no hope for the palm tree.

Well, the main thing is that I put the
pen to paper, and Beethoven,
my cat and you came along for the
ride.

Maybe the cellos, violins, and
trombones will fertilize my
creativity.
Now, my other two cats have joined
the fun.
They wrestle by the heater and laugh at
all the fat, rich *******.
I just did a podcast out of Vietnam.  It was cool.  Here's a link.
https://www.facebook.com/ondra.nemcik.75/videos/1031040335582922

Here is a link to my brand new poetry reading I did on You tube.
It was only . . . a long time ago . . .

Living came easier
and harder were the mistakes . . .
or was it the other way around ?

Love was always one of those mistakes

(another after another)

Breathing is the hardest thing to do with a heart of
shattered glass

And the shards cut deeper when you try to pick up the pieces

And before you know it everybody sees you bleeding all over yourself

or is it you hope they do ?

After a long while it doesn't really matter . . . does it ?
They say time heal all wounds
And though that may be true
For the majority of scenarios
It’s not an irrefutable fact

For our childhood scratches
May be a fleeting kind of pain
Yet there are some scars that life
Engraves deep within our soul

Like a bullet whose trajectory
Missed my heart by a few inches
But hit a far more damaging target
My very last bit of innocence

Now, when I look into the mirror
Every broken bone lost its meaning
And the echoes of who I once was
Are all that remains to be seen
This is a poem my friend Mariya wanted to have written, but couldn't do it 'cause she's too busy saving the world.
Edit. Mariya was KIA in 04/04/25. She was a true hero and will never be forgotten.
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